


Tail of Troubles

by Cazime_Daku



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazime_Daku/pseuds/Cazime_Daku
Summary: A young Nordic man finds a curiously human Khajiit girl being attacked by mercenaries and he soon becomes attached to the young kitten. Little does he know the horrors of her past, and the reason behind her odd appearance will soon come back to haunt them. The Dragonborn's destiny does not end with Miraak. (Based off of the mod "M'rissi's Tails of Troubles")
Relationships: Erik Far-giver & M'rissi
Kudos: 3





	1. Beginnings

“Erik!” A gruff voice called out from the dirt road.

The blonde Nord looked up to see Alvor as he hammered out the last few flaws in the iron armor he held to the anvil.

“Alvor, you’re back!” Erik replied as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I want to thank you for letting me use your forge, I didn’t want to go all the way down to Whiterun with this much iron,” the Nord said, quenching the chest-plate in the oil next to him.

“It’s not a problem, my friend,” Alvor replied, setting a sack of materials on the workbench behind Erik. “So, what are you going to use that armor for?”

“I was thinking of selling it—I wanted to get enough money to get out of Skyrim. This war—I want nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure?” Alvor asked, his smile fell as he sat next to Erik while he worked. “Erik, you know it isn’t exactly safe to travel these days.”

“I would rather risk that than risk getting caught in this bloody war,” Erik replied, taking the plate out to finish it off. “I won’t be travelling without protection; I plan on heading down to Cryodiil with one of the Khajiit caravans.”

“You should learn how to defend yourself too. Those Khajiit—they have sticky claws, and you could wake up with nothing in the middle of your journey.”

“Not all Khajiit are the same, Alvor,” Erik glared.

“No—but you don’t know who you can trust these days.”

“You aren’t wrong there,” Erik grunted as he finished off his piece of armor. “How’s it look?”

“You could do better—but it’ll sell,” Alvor replied. “You know, Hadvar and Ralof are fighting again—I was hoping you could talk some sense into them.”

“They believe in different things, Alvor—I can’t solve that. Those two will be at each other’s throat again the moment I turn my back.”

“Maybe—I just wish my nephew would stop arguing.”

“Yeah—you aren’t wrong. In any case, I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the armor,” Erik said, sighing. “I suppose I’ll go help Hod and Gerdur with their mill and get some coin for the day. Again, thank you for your help.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Erik. It’s the least I could do. Hey, when you go back up to Helgen to visit your old man, tell him I said hello!”

“I’ll be sure to do that, Alvor.” Erik gave a smile as he left the blacksmith’s forge and made his way to the mill across the river to work.

As the sun began to set, the Nord took his pay and retreated to his cabin, which sat closer to the gate that led to Whiterun.

Soon, Erik had lain down in his bed and drifted off to sleep.

“Aah!” The pained scream woke Erik with a jolt. Without thinking, the Nord grabbed for an iron sword underneath his bed and unsheathed it as he ran outside to find two men, tying the arms of a young girl.

Besides them, a man and a dog lay dead, both of them armored in leather, a leather shield laying by the man.

“Takes a lot of manpower for one girl, don’t you think?” Erik asked as he approached them. At a glance, he noticed the girl’s piercing orangish-yellow eyes, the eyes of a cat—the eyes of a Khajiit.

“Back off—this girl is ours.” One of the men growled. He was glad in banded iron armor, and wielded a steel great-sword.

The other man, who stood behind the girl, had very little armor, and held a bow with an arrow aimed at the back of the girl’s head.

“Yeah? What are you going to do with her?” Erik asked, glaring at the man.

_These two look like bandits—I can’t just let them take the girl._

“That’s none of your business. _Back off_ ,” The man with the bow warned.

Erik shrugged and started to walk off, flourishing his sword as he bent down to pick up the leather shield that was left behind by the fallen man.

_Probably won’t hold for more than a couple of hits from that great-sword. It’s better than nothing, though._

“Sorry, boys—but you’re going to have to make me,” Erik said, turning around.

“So be it,” The man with the great-sword snarled as he drew his weapon.

The moonlight glinted off the man’s blade as he took a wide swing.

Erik had enough time to react to his attack, but it was a strong swing.

The sword impacted the leather shield, and Erik could feel the wood splinter and break. He had to act fast if he was going to end this.

Erik let out a battle cry as he thrusted his iron sword through the unguarded throat of his enemy.

The man before him let out a strained gurgle, his eyes widened as Erik slid the sword out the wound, thick, dark blood spattering over the Nord’s face.

As the first man fell to his back and dropped the sword, the second took aim at Erik, but his arrow never left the nock.

The girl used her claws to cut through the thin rope around her arms and lunged at the man, her talons digging _deep_ into his chest as she used her teeth to rip the man’s throat out.

“That’s one way of killing a man—” Erik said as he wiped the blood from his face and approached the girl, who turned and hissed at him. “Woah, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her, moonlight exposing the wound on her arm, a deep cut from the great-sword.

Thunder rumbled off in the distance as Erik approached with an outstretched hand.

“It’s going to rain soon—I can give you shelter for the night, and I can clean that cut of yours.”

“She does not trust you,” the girl growled as she circled the man. As she moved into the moonlight, Erik could see that she had a much more human—or elven—face than a Khajiit. Even her voice was much less raspy, and smoother. She still had fur, but it was thin, and it tapered away around her wrists and face. “Why help her?”

“Because it’s the right thing,” he answered as he sheathed his sword and offered the weapon to her. “If you don’t trust me, take my sword. Call me naïve, but it doesn’t feel right to leave someone—even a stranger—injured and in the elements.”

The strange-looking Khajiit girl creeped towards the man and took the sheathed weapon from him, unsheathing it and inspecting the blade.

“She will come with you—but you will not touch her,” she demanded.

“Good enough,” Erik replied with a sigh as he knelt down and searched the man he killed. He didn’t know what he was looking for, until he found it.

A note written on a piece of parchment that seemed too fine for any bandit to be carrying.

_You’ve been hired to hunt down and retrieve a subject—alive. With this note, there will be an initial payment of 500 septims, should this subject be returned, you will receive 500 more._

_The subject you are looking for is a strange-looking female Khajiit. She has an elven face, with brown fur, and hair that almost reaches her shoulders._

_Bring her back, and you will get your reward._

_\--Isael_

“Shit—they were mercenaries.” Erik groaned as he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket and grabbed the bag of coin off his side. “Oh well—too late now. Girl, come on,” he said, motioning for her to follow him.


	2. The Young One

Erik sat down on his bed in his Riverside Cabin. He looked to his right and gazed at the young, strange-looking girl that sat in front of his crackling fireplace.

The girl shivered as a crack of thunder ripped through the silence between them, a flash of fear came over her for a moment before she shrunk into herself, pulling her knees to her chest.

Erik sighed as he stood, grabbing a wet rag that he’d prepared earlier.

“Don’t touch her!” The Khajiit hissed when he kneeled and reached for her arm. “She did not ask for your help!”

“Yet you followed me to my cabin,” Erik replied. “Look, your arm needs to be cleaned, if it doesn’t, you’ll have to deal with an infection. What will it take for you to trust me enough to let me deal with your wound?” he asked.

The young woman hesitated for a moment, her eyes bored into his very soul. Eventually, she sighed, lifting her arm.

“You’re not going to scratch my eyes out with those claws of yours when this starts to sting, are you?” Erik asked, smirking a little. But she didn’t smirk. She watched as he dabbed the rag on the fur around the laceration on her arm and winced when he began to clean the wound itself. “I’m Erik, what’s your name? Who were those mercenaries that attacked you?”

“She does not know who the mercenaries were—but her name is M’rissi,” the Khajiit replied as Erik grabbed a roll of bandages and wrapped her arm. “She thanks you—but M’rissi must go now—you have been kind to her—she does not want to repay that kindness with getting you in trouble.”

“You aren’t leaving—not in the middle of a storm,” Erik replied as he found a spare blanket and wrapped the girl in it. “I told you, I don’t feel right leaving you out there in the rain.”

M’rissi tensed up as the Nord got closer to wrap the blanket around her, and he could feel her shake even more underneath the fabric.

“Why do you care if she leaves in a storm or not? Why do you care if she gets infected? You do not know M’rissi—”

“I can’t just help someone who’s in trouble?” Erik asked, sitting with her. “I don’t know you—but I know you’re being hunted by some rather powerful individuals. Individuals that are willing to get blood on their hands to get you back—alive,” Erik said, turning to face her. “M’rissi—” He paused as he took a note from his pocket and opened it. “Who is Isael?”

M’rissi froze, her eyes widened and her breath hitched as she moved away from the note.

“She—she does not want to talk about that witch. She cannot—”

“You don’t have to—I’m sorry for asking. Look, don’t leave tonight—alright?” he requested as he put the note away before he grabbed a bowl and filled it with hot soup.

Erik offered the Khajiit the bowl, which she took and held as if she expected it to be ripped from her.

“Stay here—I have a spare bed in the basement—you can take the one up here, I’ll take the one down there. You have my sword, if you don’t feel safe—use it.”

“Wha—why would you let M’rissi take _your_ bed? Why would you sleep in the dark basement?”

“I’ve got no problems with the dark, and it’s obvious that you don’t trust me. I can’t, in good faith, let you leave here with this storm, and with people hunting you…” Erik sighed. “I want you to know that you _are_ safe here,” he said.

“Why—why would you go so far just to help M’rissi? She—she does not deserve it. She is just an animal—she—she shouldn’t even be alive.”

Erik could feel the pain in the girl’s voice, and in some way—it broke his heart.

_This girl—had she been raised to believe that?_

“I—I don’t know who told you that, but they’re wrong,” Erik replied, moving closer to her. “You deserve to live just as much as I do—you’re not some animal to be hunted down, and you deserve a better life than whatever hell you’ve lived through before this.”

M’rissi’s suspicious gaze faltered as Erik spoke, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She turned away from the Nord as a tear streaked her cheek.

Erik frowned and reached out to her. His gentle touch rested on her shoulder, for only a moment.

*

“You deserve a better life than whatever hell you’ve lived through before this.”

In just a few minutes, this stranger had shown her more kindness than she’d known in her entire life—and now he offers something not even her own mother could give?

Tears stung her eyes, and a wave of fear came over her.

_He cannot see the weakness…_

She turned away from Erik as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

And then she felt something on her shoulder. A wave of fear washed over her as she was brought back to her life before today—before this stranger showed her the kindness she’d craved her whole life.

“Do not touch her!” M’rissi exclaimed, whipping around and lashing out at the man behind her, her claws dug deep into his cheek. The next thing she realized, Erik let out a pained scream, and her hand was coated with thick, red, blood.

The girl gasped; her eyes widening as she realized what she’d done.

“She—she’s sorry—she didn’t mean to—”

The girl trembled as she backed away from the man, his groans filled the small cabin.

“Gods be damned—” she heard the man groan.

“She didn’t mean to—she—she’s sorry—”

“Now I see how you managed to kill two of those damn mercenaries and their dog—” Erik hissed as his hand was enveloped by a soft light.

“She didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t mean to, M’rissi, calm down. I won’t hurt you—” he assured her as his wound closed in the soft light of his healing spell. “Look—just a scar. I don’t even feel it anymore,” he said, though he told the truth—it was more likely because that side of his cheek was numb from the deep slash.

As he bent down, M’rissi searched his eyes for anger—or even fear, but she found none. Just a warm, reassuring smile, and kindness.

“Why—why are you so kind to her? Even when she hurts you, makes you bleed, you still show her kindness,” M’rissi whimpered as more tears came.

“Because you’ve clearly been through hell,” he replied. “You just called yourself an animal, said that you shouldn’t even be alive—at first I wanted to just get you out of the rain but now?” he sighed as he sat down. He hesitated for a moment before he shrugged. “Call me stupid, but I can’t help it. You’re hurt—in more ways than just one—and I don’t know why, but I want to help you,” he said as he opened his arms in an offer of comfort.

“I—” M’rissi hesitated. The offer was a tempting one—one that she wanted so badly to accept, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The memories of false kindness, of false hope, they were too much, they tainted the man’s offer.

“I can’t,” she told him.

The man nodded and reached for her hand, careful to make sure she knew he wasn’t a threat.

As his hand rested on hers, her whole body tensed up and froze, and then she looked into his gaze.

“That’s okay,” he told her. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“She is sorry for scratching you—she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, M’rissi.” He assured her.

“She—would like to stay here—if you would not mind. She has met many people here—she has not met one so kind—but—she is afraid that if she does, more like the mercenaries would come—or worse.”

“What would be worse?” Erik asked.

“Pointed ears,” she replied, shuddering as she spoke the words. “Isael—the witch—she is powerful. She can send many to find me, and if they do, they will kill you.”

“What is Isael?”

“Thalmor,” she replied.

Erik’s eyes grew as if he realized just the kind of mess that he’d gotten himself into.

“I see—” He nodded. “Well—then we can’t stay here. I doubt heading to Cyrodiil would be a smart idea—but I think I know of a place we can go—if you want me to come with you.”

“You—you would put yourself in danger for her?”

“Well, if they find out you were with me—they’d do a lot worse than kill me to find out where you went,” Erik replied. “It seems like we’re stuck together now—M’rissi.”

“But—you have no armor.”

“I can fix that. I’ve spent the last week working on a set of iron armor, I used myself to adjust it, so it should fit me pretty well. I just need to finish the boots and I’ll be set.”

“Where would we even go?” M’rissi asked. “Skyrim is so big—”

“It is—and it’s currently in the middle of a civil war that we can use to our advantage,” Erik replied as he picked up the discarded wooden bowl and poured more soup into it for himself. “Everything to the East of Whiterun Hold is currently under Stormcloak control, if we go deep enough into their territory, it should buy us some time. It’s not a perfect plan—but going East is as good as I can come up with. There’s a trail we can take that goes through Helgen, we can stop there for supplies, and keep going from there.”

“Where would we go from there?”

“I don’t know,” Erik replied. “A question we can answer once we leave. In any case, it’s late—and we’re going to have to deal with the guards in the morning. When they ask, they were bandits who chased you from Embershard Mine and attacked you.”

“You—would lie to the guards?”

“If they knew they were mercenaries, they’d arrest me and take me to Whiterun for murder—so, yes. I don’t like it, but it’s nothing we can control,” Erik replied as he offered his hand and stood.

M’rissi hesitated, but took his hand and stood.

“If you have any problems sleeping—you know where I am. Don’t hesitate.”

“She—she thanks you. M’rissi will not hesitate—and she _will_ find a way to pay back your kindness.”

“I didn’t take you in expecting to be paid back, and I don’t want to be paid back.”

“She will still find a way. You just met her, yet you would risk your life for her? M’rissi would not feel right if she did not repay you—”

Erik thought for a moment, then nodded.

“How about this,” he said as he pulled away from her for a moment, producing a hunting bow and a quiver full of steel-tipped arrows. “You can repay me by having my back. Do you know how to shoot one of these?”

“She does not.” M’rissi shook her head. “But she can learn, and she will.”

“I have your back, you have mine,” Erik smiled as he handed the weapons to his new friend. “I guess we don’t really have a choice—we’re in this together now.”

M’rissi gave a smile, her ear twitching as she took the weapon into her hands.

Erik smiled and brushed her hair out of her face.

“You know—you should smile more often. You have a beautiful smile.”

M’rissi gasped, the boldness of his comment catching her off guard and caused her cheeks to turn red with blush.

“F-Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied. “She—she is getting very tired now. M’rissi would like to sleep.”

“Alright then. Good night, M’rissi,” Erik said as he knelt by the fire and waved his hand. As his hand passed in front of the fire, the flames dimmed and flickered out, leaving them in darkness.

As M’rissi’s eyes adjusted to the pitch black, Erik’s hand lit up with a small flame.

Erik looked over to see M’rissi’s eyes locked on his hand. Could he feel the fear that froze her in place, the fear of his magic?

“It’s okay—it’s just fire magic,” he said as he stood and stepped towards her. “I learned it pretty early on in my life—it helps when you’re a blacksmith.” When M’rissi didn’t respond, he moved his hand closer.

“N—No. She cannot be near that—foul art.”

“You mean magic? It’s nothing to be afraid of—”

“Please! She—has bad memories,” M’rissi said with shaking breath as he got closer.

Erik nodded and used the light from his fire to find a candle, lighting the wick, and quenching the flame in his hand.

“Then I’ll keep my use of it to a minimum,” he told her with an apologetic smile.

M’rissi said nothing as he passed her to go downstairs.

When he was out of sight, she inched her way to the bed that he’d given up for her comfort and sat down.

It felt soft compared to the hard ground and rock she’d slept on before. Still—not as soft as the comfort of the plush mattress that she left behind at the place she called home; but what life would she live if she stayed with that _daedra_?

M’rissi gave a heavy sigh as she pulled herself onto the bed and leaned against the headboard. Every creak of the old wooden frame made her freeze as if she expected it to be the creak of the wooden door being pushed open.

She wanted to sleep—but she couldn’t, and it wasn’t just because her arm still burned like fire from the deep cut. Even though she was warm, and somewhat comfortable, every time she closed her eyes, every time she drifted to slumber—she was reminded of where she came from.

M’rissi frowned, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest.

She couldn’t stand it.

She’d been like this for weeks, but tonight, for some reason, it was worse.

Maybe it was because it’d been the closest she’d ever come to being dragged back to Isael—and then—

_And then he saved her. Erik—that man—he saved M’rissi._

She watched as the darkness slowly turned to light, the morning sun rising through the various cracks in the log cabin.

Her ears twitched as she heard the creak of the stairs next to the bed she’d sat in all night.

“You’re awake already?” she heard Erik ask.

“She never slept,” M’rissi answered.

“Why didn’t you come get me? I have a drink that can help you sleep—”

“She does not want your potions or elixirs! M’rissi does not like magic—”

“It’s not magic—it’s ale,” Erik replied and produced a glass bottle with a light brown liquid in it. “It’s the strong stuff too—good for knocking you out cold when you can’t sleep.”

Her ear twitched again.

“Oh,” she whispered and pushed herself off the bed. “She apologizes.”

“You don’t need to apologize, kitten. Next time you can’t sleep, just tell me. I’ll share a couple of drinks with you,” Erik said, flashing a smile as he put the ale back in a cabinet.

“M’rissi—has never had ale before. Can she have some now?”

“As much as I’d enjoy getting drunk off my arse with you, we still need to deal with the guards,” Erik replied as he grabbed a couple of wooden plates, putting some fresh-picked fruit and vegetables on them. As he handed one of the plates to M’rissi, she shook her head.

“She can only eat juicy meat. Plants make M’rissi sick!”

“Oh, that’s right—I forgot Khajiit are meat-eaters. I’ll get you something after we deal with the guards.”

“Could—you get her fishies?”

“I—suppose I could. I think Delphine may have fresh fish.”

M’rissi’s lips curled into a smile, and Erik perked up.

“Do me a favor,” he said as he neared her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Keep smiling—it suits you better than a frown.”

M’rissi looked up at the Nord, taken aback by his request, but she nodded and gave him a warm smile.

“She will try,” she said, hesitating for a moment—then wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you—for everything.”

Erik ran his hand through her hair, which felt more like grease than hair.

“We—should probably get you a bath. The Sleeping Giant has a bathhouse you can use,” he said as he wiped the grease off of his hand and took a bite of a tomato.

As he did, several loud knocks from the door pulled them from their moment.

“Erik Far-Giver, would you mind explaining the three dead men outside your house?” a voice with a heavy Nordic accent asked.

Erik sighed and patted M’rissi’s back.

“Remember what I told you last night—bandits,” Erik whispered as he ushered her to the door.


	3. Preparations

“Good morning to you too,” Erik said as he opened the door to the guards. He sighed and peeked his head around the door frame to see the three corpses, which were surrounded by other guards. “I can explain the bodies—” Erik motioned for M’rissi to come out, and when she did, he motioned to her arm. “I woke up to a scream late last night, ran out and saw the one in banded armor and the one with the chunk out of his throat tying her up. The man with the dog was dead when I came out.”

“So you killed them?” the guard asked.

“I confronted them and asked them what they were doing, they threatened me, so, I used the hide shield from the man with the dog and killed the man in the heavy armor, and she broke free and killed the man with the bow,” Erik explained as he and M’rissi stepped out of his house.

“They were bandits,” M’rissi said. “They chased M’rissi from the mine, and cornered her. She tried to defend herself, she even killed one of them and their dog, but…”

The young woman winced as she lifted her arm—another wave of pain washed over her as she showed the guard the bloodied bandage.

“The man—Erik—he saved M’rissi.”

“They’re from Embershard?” The guard asked, sighing. “Alright, well—why didn’t you come and get us?”

“It was late at night, and I needed to tend to the girl’s arm. My main concern was making sure she wasn’t going to die,” Erik replied.

The guard sighed and shook his head.

“Alright—fair enough. I’ll give you a pass, since it seems you were defending your—friend here,” the guard spoke as he turned to the bodies. “But—if this happens again, you’ll have to answer to the Jarl.”

“Thank you, Beinrr,” Erik nodded. “If you want me to get rid of the bodies—”

“No, I’ll take care of it. Bring the girl to the Sleeping Giant Inn, Delphine can help with her arm—”

“She—has a dislike of potions. She’s not going to let Delphine come anywhere near her with anything she made.”

“Right—well, in any case, try not to kill anyone else, alright Far-Giver?”

“I will try, Beinrr. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Erik. This town is boring—you’ve at least given me something to do,” the guard chuckled. “Anyways, be on your way.”

As the guard moved away from the home—towards the crowd of guards—Erik and M’rissi made their way into the small town, towards the small inn that was ran by Delphine and Orgnar.

“Erik—it’s good to see you. How’ve you been?” Delphine asked.

“Tired,” Erik replied as he sat at one of the tables. “Do you mind if I get some fresh fish for my friend?” he said as M’rissi sat next to him, making sure Delphine didn’t see her face.

“Sure thing—is there anything else I can get you? Maybe a potion for her arm—”

“She does not want a potion. M’rissi’s arm is fine,” the Khajiit spoke up.

“Then let me at least get you a sling to hold your arm so you don’t hurt it any more than it is,” Delphine replied.

“She’s not to fond of magic or alchemy,” Erik replied with a shrug.

“Clearly.” Delphine nodded and left them alone. When she came back, she had a plate of fresh fish and a linen sling for M’rissi. “So—you must have come through last night. Do you and Erik know each other very well?”

M’rissi seemed to ignore her question, using her good arm to pick apart her food.

“Kind of rude, isn’t she?” Delphine asked Erik.

“She’s guarded—I’m sure you’ll hear about it later, but I found her last night. Bandits chased her into town and tried to capture her.”

“Ah, I see. Well—I’ll leave you two alone then. M’rissi, enjoy your fish,” Delphine said, leaving the two.

“M’rissi does not like strangers,” M’rissi whispered.

“You don’t seem to mind me,” Erik replied, watching as M’rissi bit into her fish and struggled to put her sling on. When Erik moved to help her, M’rissi gave a quiet hiss and glared at him.

“M’rissi can put it on herself,” she said, wrapping her arm in the linen and putting the remaining cloth around her neck. “You saved M’rissi, and you wish to help her. You gave her a place to sleep, food—even cleaned her wound. She can see you are not bad. M’rissi does not know her.”

“Delphine is someone you can trust.”

“M’rissi does not know that. She does not even fully trust you—but she is willing to, because you have shown her she can,” M’rissi replied, sighing as she finished off her fish. “The fish was very good…”

“We should probably get to Alvor’s so I can finish that armor,” Erik replied. “I don’t want to stay here much longer if the Thalmor are looking for you.”

“She understands,” she said, standing with Erik. “She hopes—it will not take long.”

“All I have to do is finish the leggings and then I can finish it off with the boots, I’ve got everything else done, even have a shield.” Erik replied as the pair left the inn and crossed the dirt road to Alvor’s home.

“Erik—by the gods, boy, you didn’t have that scar on your cheek yesterday,” Alvor said as he turned Erik’s face to get a better look at the healed wound. “And who’s the girl? I don’t remember seeing her here—I definitely would have remembered such a pretty face.”

“Her name is M’rissi—and she—she gave Erik the scratch.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t on purpose though,” Erik assured Alvor. “Look, Alvor, I’m in a bit of trouble here—”

“What kinda trouble, son?” Alvor asked.

“Remember when I said I wanted to get out of Skyrim? Yeah—that want is a _need_ now. Last night—I got into a fight. M’rissi was chased into town by a couple of mercenaries—only I didn’t know they were mercenaries. They hurt her pretty bad—and I killed one of them, she killed the other two. Turns out, those men were sent by the Thalmor—”

“Thalmor?” Alvor gasped, his eyes as wide as dinnerplates. “Boy, what in Akatosh’s name have you gotten yourself into?”

“I know—I know. Look, us being here—this whole damn town is in danger. I’m not about to put you and Sigrid in danger, so I need that armor done so M’rissi and I can leave town. We’re going to cross through Helgen, I was thinking of going to Morrowind—”

“No—no, Erik you can’t go that way. If you go through Helgen, you’ll tell them exactly where you’re going. You need to go around the mountain. I can tell them that you said you were going North, up to Dawnstar when they come—”

“You don’t need to do that—”

“Yes I do. I love you like you’re my own—and as much as I love the Empire—I’m not blind to what the Thalmor do to those who get in their way.”

“Thank you—Alvor. Look—I need something else, I need a cloak for her.”

“Alright, you work on your armor, I’ll get Sigrid and we’ll start on the cloak,” Alvor said, moving over to M’rissi. “I’m no tailor, but if you let me take measurements, Sigrid should be able to make something that will hold together.”

“She—thanks you. But M’rissi does not want to be touched,” the Khajiit replied, shrinking into herself.

“I need to take your measurements—otherwise the cloak is going to be all off.”

“M’rissi does not wish to be touched—”

“Girl—I need to take your measurements if you want this cloak to be right.” Alvor crossed his arms and sighed.

“She does not trust you,” M’rissi growled. “She does not want you to touch her.”

Alvor scoffed and shook his head as he took his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Erik—can you talk some sense into her?”

Erik sighed and crossed his arms, turning to M’rissi.

“You want to be able to conceal yourself in public, right? And if we’re heading North, we’re going to need something to keep us warm while we travel. You don’t want to be cold—do you? Those elegant robes of yours look warm—but they don’t cover a whole lot.”

M’rissi looked away as she thought about the question.

“Fine…” M’rissi sighed. “But what about her arm? It cannot be moved so easily, and it hurts for her to move it.”

“You won’t have to lift your arms for a cloak,” Alvor sighed, slipping into his house and coming out rolled up cloth that had marks precise increments. “I just need a few things, so, if you don’t mind me getting a little close—”

“Just do it,” M’rissi replied.

Alvor nodded and took the measurements he needed and wrote them down.

“Alright—Erik, you get on that armor,” the blacksmith said.

Erik nodded and started on the leatherwork. As he picked the pieces of leather he needed, M’rissi sat next to him and watched as he worked.

“M’rissi wonders, why go so far to help her?”

“Because if we don’t stick together—we’re both going to die,” Erik replied. “With that arm injured, you’re not going to be fighting any time soon—and I can barely fight as it is. We wouldn’t make it a day on our own as it is. Once that arm gets healed, though, I’m going to teach you how to fight with that bow.”

“And then she will protect you—like you protected M’rissi.”

Erik paused for a moment and looked up with a smile.

“Yeah, like I protected you. How’s your arm, by the way?”

“It hurts—but pain is nothing new to her,” M’rissi replied, her eyes fixated on Erik’s hands as they crafted the leather boot that would soon have iron plates on them.

“Well—as long as it doesn’t get infected. We might have to stop by Whiterun and get more bandages. Those will have to be changed and cleaned soon,” Erik said, finishing the first boot. “I know it’s probably none of my business, but what kept you up last night?”

“She—” M’rissi paused, sighing. “You know who is hunting for M’rissi. Her mother—the witch—she was not kind.”

“Well, if she’s working for the Thalmor, I can imagine she wouldn’t be, especially towards a Khajiit. Is she why you look the way you do?”

“She—she does not want to talk about that.”

“I understand,” Erik said, nodding as he started on the second boot. “Would you tell me something else, though? Why would a High Elf—a Thalmor—even adopt a Khajiit in the first place?”

“M’rissi does not know. She never asked. She was too scared,” M’rissi replied, shrinking into herself and pulling her knees to her chest.

Erik paused for a moment, putting the leather to the side and moving closer to M’rissi.

“Hey,” Erik spoke as he rested a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to be scared. You aren’t there anymore—and I’m going to make sure you never have to go back.”

“They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll do a lot worse if they find me here. I’d rather be dead than strung up on a torture rack. Besides—I don’t know if I can complain. I mean, I’m going to spend most of my time with a beautiful girl, with pretty eyes and a pretty smile.”

M’rissi looked up, her cheeks red from blush as she smiled.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied, purring and lowering her knees. “But M’rissi thanks you for your kind words.”

“You know—I was thinking…” Erik said as he went back to working on the leather for the boot. “If we go to Ivarstead, we should be safe. It’s on the edge of Stormcloak territory, but it’s a peaceful town, and I don’t think the Thalmor will go so far into Stormcloak territory just for two people.”

“What about the pass?”

“By the time they realize we aren’t going to Dawnstar—they won’t have a choice, not unless they want to waste their time going all the way back down to Riverwood. By then—no one’s going to know where we are. We could stay there for a while, save up some coin—then head up to Windhelm and take a boat to Morrowind.”

“Morrowind is home to other pointed ears—she does not know if she will be comfortable there.”

“Morrowind is home to the Dark Elves. The Thalmor have no place there, they hate the Dunmer,” Erik replied. “It might take time, but if we can pull it off, the Thalmor will never find us.”

“What will we do when we get there?” M’rissi asked. “M’rissi does not want to split up—”

“We won’t—I have no interest in traveling Morrowind alone—”

Erik paused as he heard the raised voices of Hadvar and Ralof. The Nord groaned and stood, walking off and finding the two arguing at the lumber mill.

“Do you not realize that the Thalmor are using you? Hadvar, _think_ for a moment, would you? They’re just using Skyrim to further their—”

“By the eight divines, will you shut your mouth?” Hadvar exclaimed. “I have no interest in your opinion over the Thalmor, damn it! The Empire has always done right by Skyrim—”

“Did they do right when they started murdering citizens for worshiping Talos?”

“Would you rather still have to deal with the Great War? The White-Gold Concordat was signed to stop the war—”

“Enough, _both of you_!” Erik called out as he approached. “By the Gods, you two are like children! Always fighting—always bickering! Who cares who is right? Stop with this mess and grow up. There are bigger issues at hand.”

“Like the civil war?” Ralof asked.

“Like _life_ , you fool!” Erik replied. “Go back to work. If I have to interrupt my forging to separate you two again—I swear to the gods, I’ll make both of you go up to the Barrows and sleep there for a week.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hadvar replied, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I would. And I’d make sure the whole damn town keeps you there until you stop fighting!”

The Nords sighed and nodded.

“Fine,” Hadvar replied.

Erik shook his head, turning and walking back to the forge and continuing his work.

“M’rissi wonders, what are the barrows?” the Khajiit asked.

“The ruins on the other side of the river—Hadvar was terrified of them as a child, he still somewhat scared of it,” Erik replied with a smirk. “To be honest, I just can’t stand them fighting. It’s been like that for weeks.”

“Would you really make them sleep in those ruins?”

“No—but that doesn’t mean I won’t make them go up there.” Erik chuckled and finished the boot and started loading the forge. “This is going to take a while—do you want to help me?”

“What would M’rissi do?”

“You’ll just hold the metal with tongs while I hammer it into shape,” Erik replied and handed M’rissi the tongs as he used a blast of fire magic to light the forge.

M’rissi froze and dropped the tongs.

“Shit—I’m sorry. I forgot about last night—”

“I—It’s okay,” the Khajiit replied. “M’rissi just—she does not like magic.”

“I know, I know,” Erik said, sighing. “I’m just used to using magic. Come on,” Erik said, picking up the tongs and grabbing an iron ingot. “Just—be careful. Even if the metal _looks_ cool, don’t touch it. Made that mistake once, it wasn’t fun.”

M’rissi giggled and nodded, taking the tongs and waiting for his direction.


	4. No Turning Back

Erik looked up from the anvil as the sun began to set.

His work was finished, his armor was complete. He had M’rissi help him into the armor for a first fit.

“A bit heavier than what I’d like—but it’ll work,” Erik said, lowering the helmet onto his head. “How do I look?”

“You look very big and strong—she likes it,” M’rissi replied. “But your shoulders—you should cover them too.”

“I can make some pauldrons tomorrow. It’s getting late,” Erik said.

“Damn, that doesn’t look half bad, boy,” Alvor said, walking up and smiling. “How’s it feel?”

“Heavier than I expected, but it’ll work.”

“Well, in any case,” Alvor said, producing a folded hide and fur cloak and handing it to M’rissi. “Put that on, see how it feels.”

M’rissi nodded and slipped the cloak on. Erik could hear a soft purr from the young Khajiit.

“M’rissi likes it. She thanks you for these pelts,” M’rissi said, smiling and yawning. “M’rissi is also tired…”

“Yeah, I’m pretty spent too,” Erik admitted, stretching. “Alvor, thank you for the help, but M’rissi and I are going back to my cabin for the day. I think we’ll start heading North tomorrow. I’m—sorry for putting you and Sigrid in harm’s way.”

“Don’t apologize for doing what’s right. You did a good thing by doing what you did,” Alvor replied and turned to M’rissi. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed, Erik may think he’s smarter than the average Nord because of his fancy magic, but he’s still a Nord.”

“Hey!” Erik laughed.

M’rissi giggled and nodded.

“M’rissi will be sure to keep him safe—after all, how else will she repay him for saving her from the mercenaries?”

Alvor smiled and nodded and Erik gave a few more parting words before he and M’rissi left Alvor and returned to the cabin.

“Gods—it’s been such a long day,” Erik groaned, setting his shield on a bench and taking his armor off.

“You know—it has been a very long time since M’rissi had a friend. She is glad she ran into you—she is sorry that you have to leave your home,” the Khajiit said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Erik replied. “I was planning on leaving Skyrim anyways—this civil war, the Thalmor, Ulfric—it’s just too much.” Erik sighed as he sat on the bed he gave to M’rissi.

“Still—you shouldn’t have to run because your life is in danger because of M’rissi.”

Erik shrugged.

“Sometimes the gods give us unexpected paths to follow,” he said as M’rissi sat next to him. “I don’t mind it—because I know I won’t have to face any of it alone.”

M’rissi looked away and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shrunk into herself.

“Hey,” Erik spoke up, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Is something bothering you?”

M’rissi shook her head, but the tears that welled in her eyes betrayed her.

Erik sighed, moving to give the girl a hug, but he paused, remembering the scratch she gave him the previous night.

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he asked.

M’rissi hesitated, but nodded, gasping as she felt Erik’s thick arms wrap around her and pull her into his embrace.

*

M’rissi could feel an uneasy feeling build in the pit of her stomach. She knew the feeling well, and she hated it. She hated the feeling of guilt. Guilt for tearing this man from his home, guilt for putting him in a situation where he had to kill. Guilt, because he was such a nice man, and yet the chances of him living through this were slim.

She knew at some point, Isael _would_ find her, she always did.

“Sometimes the gods give us unexpected paths to follow,” Erik said as she sat next to him. “I don’t mind it—because I know I won’t have to face any of it alone.”

_You shouldn’t have to face it at all._

M’rissi looked away and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shrunk into herself.

“Hey,” she heard Erik speak up and felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. “Is something bothering you?”

_Yes…_

M’rissi shook her head, but the tears that welled in her eyes betrayed her.

_You should stay here—live your life._

_But—if you do, you’ll be captured and tortured, because of her._

_This is her fault…this is all her fault._

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” Erik’s voice pulled M’rissi from her thoughts.

M’rissi hesitated. She wanted to say ‘no’, but everything in her begged her to accept his kindness. It wasn’t something she wanted—it was something she _needed,_ but something stopped her. The fear of pain, the fear of the past repeating itself, but—this man—Erik, he’s gone so far for her, would he really do all of that, for a stranger no less, if he intended on hurting her in the end?

For once in her life, M’rissi decided to give in to her needs, and not her fears.

M’rissi gave a quick nod, and was surprised when she felt Erik’s thick arms wrap around her, without hesitation, and pull her into his embrace. Even though he smelled of sweat and soot, M’rissi couldn’t help but lean into the hug.

She was like a starving animal gulping down food for the first time in weeks—only that food was the affection she’d been deprived of for her whole life.

Her tears pooled and streaked her cheeks as she sobbed quietly into Erik’s chest.

His fingers ran through her hair, and he leaned in and whispered the words that she felt like she’d waited her whole life to hear.

“It’s okay—you’re safe with me.”

Even if it was just for a day, an hour, hell, even if it was just for a moment—M’rissi wanted to believe his words. She _felt_ safe in Erik’s big, strong arms—but she knew that as long as Isael lived, she would never be safe.

But she knew she couldn’t.

He had no idea the power that her adopted mother held.

M’rissi shook her head, drying her tears as she pulled away.

“She is not…” she said. “She will never be safe as long as Isael lives. She is weak.”

“Weak?” Erik raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What makes you think you’re weak?”

“It’s just what she has been told. Showing emotion, being defeated so easily—it makes one weak.”

“Maybe to a High Elf,” Erik replied. “To me, I see someone who’s probably been through more shit than I’ll ever go through in my life, yet she still had the strength to escape it, travel Skyrim, and even took out two mercenaries and a dog. That’s not weak. Crying certainly doesn’t make you weak.”

“Isael would disagree.”

“Isael can kiss the whitest part of my arse,” Erik said, making M’rissi giggle. “Don’t let anyone say that you’re weak because you have emotions.”

“Thank you…” M’rissi whispered, curling up to him and purring. “M’rissi—does not want to sleep alone tonight.”

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”

“On the floor? Erik—M’rissi will not make you sleep on the floor of your own home!”

“Then where?”

“She is fine with you sleeping in the bed—she welcomes it, even. M’rissi would not mind being held by someone so…”

“Strong?”

“Kind.” M’rissi smiled and looked up to him.

“Well—if you promise you won’t scratch me again, I wouldn’t mind keeping you company,” Erik replied, running his fingers through her hair.

M’rissi smiled for a moment, but sighed.

“It is an odd feeling, M’rissi has not known such kindness—and yet the one to show it to her is a complete stranger.”

“Fate can be odd sometimes,” Erik chuckled. “It’s getting late. If you want me to stay—I wouldn’t mind.”

“She wants you to stay,” M’rissi said, lying next to him.

Erik smiled and wrapped his arms around M’rissi as he laid down behind her.

M’rissi’s purr got louder as she allowed herself to relax. She felt Erik pull her closer to him, and she closed her eyes and slipped into slumber, where she was reminded that even though her body was at ease—her mind was not.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a familiar windowless room.

She knew where she was.

M’rissi whimpered, her heart pounded, and she shrunk into herself. She felt like a kitten again, scared of the one person she should have been able to trust.

As she pulled her knees to her chest, she felt something bump into her knee—and she realized she had a snout.

M’rissi gasped and shot up, running to a vanity lit by a single candle.

She touched her lynx-like face and let her claws graze the side of her cheek.

But then she felt pain, unimaginable pain that coursed through her body like lightning.

She felt her bones break and heal; her face felt like it had been crushed, and she let out a pained scream as a golden-skinned woman with snow-white hair and an angular face appeared behind her.

*

Erik woke to M’rissi’s tossing and turning in his arms. She whimpered and winced. Her body jerked around; her ears lain flat against her head.

The Nord held her still with a gentle grasp.

“Hey!” he whispered. “M’rissi, wake up—”

“No! Let her go! Let M’rissi go!” the Khajiit cried out and struggled against his grasp.

Careful to keep her clawed hands in place, Erik held her, shaking her to try to wake her.

Then her eyes shot open, and their eyes locked.

“Erik…”

“You were having a nightmare,” Erik replied, sitting up and sighing as he lit a candle. “Are you okay?”

M’rissi started to hyperventilate, sitting up with him and pulling her knees to her chest.

“She—she does not know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“She does not—she does not like talking about her past,” M’rissi replied as she tried to calm herself down.

“Then I won’t make you,” he assured her and offered to hold her, an offer she took. “Take a breath,” he told her, taking deep breaths. Soon, M’rissi followed his lead.

Her breathing calmed down, became less jagged, more controlled—her panic gave way to calm.

“Are you okay now?”

M’rissi looked up and nodded as she dried the tears from her eyes.

“She is sorry. The nightmares—they are why she doesn’t sleep often.”

“I see…” Erik sighed, nodding. “Well, I guess that’s one thing I can’t help with—but if you ever want to talk about them, I’m here.”

“She knows—M’rissi thanks you,” she replied, cuddling up on Erik’s lap. “She thinks—it is best if we leave today. M’rissi knows Isael well. She would have had the mercenaries followed.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Erik replied as he stroked M’rissi’s hair. “I was thinking, we could head up to Whiterun, get some supplies, then head out.”

“That sounds like a good plan, but what will we do about M’rissi’s arm? She cannot fight with a bow if she does not have both hands.”

“As much as I know you hate it, if you want to be ready to fight by the time we leave—you need to take a health potion.”

M’rissi sighed and nodded.

“She knows. She does not like it, but she knows.”

Erik smiled and leaned over, digging into his nightstand and producing a small vial of red liquid.

M’rissi sat up and cringed at the potion, taking it into her hands and popping the cork off.

The Khajiit hesitated, taking a whiff of the elixir and turned away.

“It smells foul. M’rissi will need something to wash this foul mixture away when she is done.”

“Yeah—they’re not too pleasant,” Erik replied, chuckling.

M’rissi sighed and downed the bottle. She coughed and gagged, handing the bottle to Erik.

“She does _not_ like that taste!” M’rissi whined. “But—at least her arm is healed,” she sighed and unwrapped her arm, which now had a deep, newly healed, scar where her injury once was. “Another thing to repay—she supposes.”

“You don’t need to repay me at all, M’rissi. How’s it feel?”

“She cannot feel her forearm—it is numb, but she can move well enough.”

“Well, you’ll probably have to drink another one of those potions if you can’t hold the string.”

M’rissi nodded and traced her scar with her fingers.

“Just—give her another.”

“Are you sure?” Erik asked.

“She is,” M’rissi nodded.

Erik shrugged and searched his nightstand for his last Health Potion and gave it to her.

As M’rissi downed the elixir, her scar gave off a soft glow, shrinking in size and depth.

“That—feels much better,” M’rissi smiled. “Her arm is no longer numb, thank you.”

“Good,” Erik said, getting up, putting his armor on and grabbing his sword. “It’s still dark out—if we want to have any luck leading the Thalmor away from Riverwood, we should head out now.”

“How much food do we have?” M’rissi asked as Erik grabbed a leather backpack and a couple of black leather bags, stuffing the latter with as much food as they could carry.

“About a week’s worth—just enough to get there, but we’ll need to get a couple of tents and some waterskins, and another bag for you,” Erik replied as he lit the fireplace and M’rissi grabbed her cloak from the floor, putting it on. “Maybe an axe for good measure.”

“Erik—M’rissi does not want a separate tent. She feels safe with you—she would like to sleep in your tent,” M’rissi spoke up. Erik looked back and noticed a feint blush on her face. He nodded, slinging his empty backpack over his shoulder.

“Still—we’ll need a fur tent for the cold. Leather tents are good at keeping rain out, but terrible at keeping heat in,” he told her as he handed her one of the black bags. “I have to admit—it’s a little hard to believe that I’m leaving this place. It feels like yesterday that I finished building it.”

M’rissi paused, wrapping her fingers around his arm in a soft grip.

“You don’t have to leave with her. She can fight on her own.”

Erik hesitated, but grabbed the bow and quiver off his bench and handed them to her.

“No, I do. For the safety of myself, of Alvor and his family—I need to leave. But—don’t feel bad, because if I had the chance to go back and redo what happened when we met, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Erik gave a kind smile as M’rissi took the weapon into her hands. Then he turned his attention to his fireplace, forming a ball of fire in his hand.

“What are you going to do?” M’rissi asked, staring down the magic in his hand as Erik opened the front door.

“Leave no trace behind,” Erik replied and unleashed a stream of fire into the fireplace.

The flames exploded and spread onto the walls and floor of his home. As the pair crested the bridge that connected Riverwood to the path that lead to Whiterun, Erik turned back to see the warm glow of fire above the town’s wall.

“No turning back now…” Erik muttered to himself, turning back to his companion, who flashed a smile and lifted the hood of her cloak to cover her face before they continued on their path to the Hold capital.


	5. Their Journey Begins

“The cat seems to have gone into the town,” A golden-skinned, armor-clad elf said as he handed the woman before him a piece of fine cloth.

The woman was dressed in black and gold robes and had a rounded face and a glare that pierced through the soldier’s soul.

“Madam Eleria, there are no signs of the mercenaries High Justiciar Isael hired. Though there seems to have been a fight near the far edge, and there’s a decent amount of blood, I don’t think much of it is from the girl.”

Eleria chuckled, examining the cloth.

The mercenaries were dead—that much she knew.

_Isaels' pet knows how to fight—either that or some poor soul intervened._

“What about the charred remains? Any word?”

“A house fire,” the soldier replied. “No deaths, but the Nord who lived there is gone. Some of the civilians say that he had a strange Khajiit companion with him.”

“The cat,” Eleria sneered as she looked down on the town. “Did anyone say where they went?”

“The Blacksmith mentioned something about them going to Dawnstar.”

“Then we’d better get moving, we’ll stop by Whiterun for supplies, then head out,” she said, looking to the morning sun. “I need you to hire another set of mercenaries, make sure they’re well paid, and make sure they know how to fight.”

“Yes ma’am,” the soldier nodded.

“The rest of you,” Eleria spoke, turning to the rest of her escort. “When we get to Whiterun, search for them. If they left last night, they’ll probably get supplies in the city,” the High-Elf ordered. The soldiers nodded, and soon, they left for Whiterun.

*

“I need a few things,” Erik said as he looked through Belethor’s shop, setting his helmet down on the counter. “Two tents, one leather, one fur; two sleeping bags; two waterskins; a second backpack; and an axe.”

“Going on a journey?” the Breton asked, smiling. “Tell you what, how much gold do you have?”

“Five-hundred pieces.”

“I’ll give you the supplies for two hundred.”

“That must be a big discount—what’s the catch?” the Nord asked.

“No catch, I can see a man in need when I see one. Besides, I’ve been having a good week. May I ask where you’re headed?”

“Up North, my companion and I are going to Dawnstar,” Erik said.

Belethor raised an eyebrow.

“Dawnstar, huh?” the Breton asked as Erik gave him the money Belethor asked for. “Alright, stay right here and I’ll get your stuff.”

“Erik—” The Nord heard M’rissi’s voice behind him. “We need to leave, now.”

“What’s wrong, M’rissi?” he asked in a whisper.

“Thalmor,” she replied in a hushed tone. “M’rissi saw them at the front gate, she does not think they saw her.”

“Shit—if they’re here, they must have been through Riverwood, which means they may be heading to Dawnstar.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’ll be stopping by _here_ ,” Erik sighed, looking back to Belethor, who was still gathering the supplies. “They’ll probably get here before we can leave. Do you trust me?”

“She trusts you…”

“Then follow my lead, and we’ll walk out of here,” he told her, holding her hand and bringing her to a shelf of armor and weapons.

Moments passed like hours.

_You sure are taking your sweet time, Belethor._

Then the sound that made Erik’s blood freeze. The soft creak of the front door opening.

“Breton,” the voice of a high elf woman called out. “I need supplies. Food and water.”

Beside him, M’rissi froze and Erik could see her shake out of the corner of his eye.

“Calm down,” Erik whispered as Belethor spoke up and struck up a conversation with the elf. Then, his eyes locked onto an amulet of Mara, and next to it, a ring with a face of blue opal. “We’re a couple looking for a ring for our wedding. Try not to sound like yourself.”

M’rissi nodded as Erik bent down and picked the ring and amulet up.

“How does this one look, my love?” Erik asked as he presented them to M’rissi.

“I think it looks amazing, dear,” M’rissi replied in a deeper tone than usual. “It’s perfect!” She grinned and leaned into Erik.

Before he could react, Erik felt M’rissi’s soft lips locked with his and her warm arms wrapped around his neck.

Erik returned the kiss, cupping her cheeks and leaning into it.

Soon, the soft creak of the door sounded throughout the shop, and Erik glanced over to see that the shop was clear. As he pulled away from M’rissi, he smiled.

“Nice touch with the kiss,” Erik whispered, and M’rissi’s cheeks turned red with blush.

“It is not the first time M’rissi has had to avoid capture,” she said, smiling. “The ring—it is nice. M’rissi would like to keep it.”

“Alright,” Erik nodded and brought the ring over to the counter, where Belethor stood with everything Erik had asked for. “How much for this ring?”

“Fifty gold,” Belethor replied. Erik nodded and produced the money before collecting his goods. “Thanks for the business, please, do come back.”

Erik nodded and loaded the supplies before he and M’rissi left.

As they left the shop, they caught sight of the Thalmor soldiers as they left.

“Who was the lady?” Erik asked.

“Her name is Eleria,” M’rissi spoke up, slipping the ring onto her finger. “She is Isael’s right hand. She is as cunning as Isael, and twice as powerful. If she recognized me—we won’t know until she tries to capture me.”

“Then we need to be extra careful,” Erik replied as they started towards the city gate. “Wait until they leave the city, we’ll trail behind them and go our separate ways once we need to start heading East.”

“M’rissi will follow your lead,” the Khajiit replied, sneaking her hand into Erik’s.

Erik looked over, surprised. He smiled and handed M’rissi her bag, which had a fur tent and a sleeping bag tied to the top and bottom of it.

She returned his smile, taking the bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

As they followed the group of elves, Erik could feel a knot in the pit of his stomach. As they followed the road, it grew and grew, until the elves diverged to the North.

Suddenly, the anxiety melted away, and Erik let out a sigh of relief as he and M’rissi continued East.

Erik took out a crude map of Skyrim from his bag as they continued on their path.

“Once we get past Fort Amol, the Thalmor will have a hard time finding us,” he said, pointing to a fork in their path far ahead of them.

M’rissi nodded, glancing at the map before Erik rolled it up and put it in his pack.

As they continued their journey, and the sun began to sink behind the mountains of Skyrim, Erik’s feet began to ache, his legs started to burn. For all his work—this was the longest he’d ever traveled.

“Let’s stop,” he said, sighing and turning off the road into the tree-line to find a place for their camp.

When they finished setting up the small leather tent, M’rissi sat inside while Erik took his armor off and set it aside.

“Gods, that armor is heavier than it looks,” Erik said as he sat inside the tent, next to his Khajiit companion. “Everything all right?” he asked, noticing that M’rissi had her knees to her chest.

She shook her head, staring off into the forest, towards the road.

“M’rissi does not know if she can sleep.”

“Because of Eleria?”

M’rissi nodded.

“Right—I won’t lie, knowing the Thalmor were _that_ close to us—too close.”

“She agrees, but M’rissi does not know if she would have walked from that city if it weren’t for you.”

Erik sighed, laying down beside his companion.

His thoughts drifted back to his home. The small cabin that he burned down—the haven of peace that felt separated from the rest of the world. The haven that he left in ash.

“Do you regret it?” M’rissi asked, almost as if she knew what he was thinking. “Leaving your home to travel with her, she means. Or—even saving her…”

Erik had to think about her question.

Adventure was something he’d always wanted. He’d always wished for something more—even though he pretended he just wanted peace.

This war had just given him the perfect excuse to leave and start the life he’d always dreamed—but this was different. This wasn’t his choice, he wasn’t out here for gold or fame. He was running for his life.

But, despite this, despite the danger he was in, could he bring himself to regret what he did?

“No,” Erik answered after a long pause of silence. “I’ll never regret saving you from those men. I might regret burning down the home that I’d built with my own hands—but I’ll never regret saving you.”

“She—is glad to hear that,” M’rissi replied, but despite her words, Erik could still see her retreat deeper into her thoughts.

“Why don’t you rest? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“She cannot sleep,” M’rissi replied.

“M’rissi, Eleria and her soldiers went north. We would have noticed if they turned back—we even watched them from the Ritual Stone. There’s no way they could follow us from the path they took without them doubling back and coming this way.”

“How long until they realize they were lied to?”

“If they’re heading to Dawnstar, a week, maybe two if the weather is bad up there,” Erik replied. “Plenty of time for us to get to Ivarstead.”

There was a pause as M’rissi shifted to face Erik.

“She thinks—we should not stay in that little town for long. It is best if we do not stop moving until we can go to Morrowind.”

“You probably have a point.” Erik sat up and sighed. “We could take the cross after a few days of rest, get more supplies. We’d have to cross through Helgen, but after that, all of Skyrim is open to us—we just have to be careful and avoid any Thalmor patrols.”

“M’rissi thinks that would be best. If we stay in one place too often—it will be easier for the pointed ears to find us. When will we be able to go to Morrowind?”

“I’m not sure. If we want safe passage, we’ll have to find someone who knows the mountains that make up the border, which means we’ll need money…” Erik sighed, shifting and sitting next to M’rissi. “Look, we’ll get there, alright? I know you're worried, but Skyrim is a big place. Come on—you need to sleep.”

M’rissi sighed, nodding as they retreated into the tent and crawled into her bedroll.


	6. Ivarstead Lovers

Erik awoke to the sound of M’rissi thrashing about in her bedroll much as she did in the cabin the week before.

He sighed and sat up, putting his hand on her shoulder in a firm but gentle grasp.

“Wake up, M’rissi. You’re having a nightmare,” he said as he moved closer to her, but her eyes didn’t open.

_Damn it, she’s not waking._

Erik shifted M’rissi, careful not to be too sudden, until he had her head in his lap. He began to stroke her hair, brushing the loose strands out of her face and running his hand through her hair.

“It’s a nightmare, M’rissi. Wake up,” he whispered as he scratched the soft fur just behind her ear. “It’s okay, you’re safe…”

Slowly, the young Khajiit calmed down, and her fluttered open.

“You alright?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“You—you woke her,” M’rissi said, looking up at the Nord. “Again…”

“You were thrashing about—again,” he replied, offering a warm smile. “Those nightmares must be pretty bad. Do you want to talk about them?”

“She does not—but M’rissi thanks you for your concern.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m right here.”

M’rissi nodded, sitting up. She hesitated for just a moment before she wrapped her arms around him in a light hug and broke away.

“How far are we from Ivarstead? You said we would be there by now.”

“That was before that storm hit and made us stay in that cave for two days, remember? We’re lucky it happened to be above ground, most caves just flood.” Erik sighed as he and M’rissi crawled from their tent, taking his bag and producing his map. “Well, if we just passed Nilheim, we should be pretty close. I’m thinking a few hours at this point. When we get there, we can finally start practice with that bow.”

M’rissi frowned as her ears flattened against her head.

“She does not want to practice; she wants to relax. M’rissi has been walking for days and days and days, and she is tired of walking!”

“You walked from Solitude to Riverwood, I think you’ll be fine,” Erik replied, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you’ve been getting better, if you can nail the targets I set up—I won’t make you practice until we get there. I promise.”

M’rissi groaned, but sighed.

“Fine. M’rissi will do your practice. But she wants fishies for recompense! She can hear the river nearby, you will fish for her!”

Erik sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“Alright, deal.”

M’rissi grinned and giggled as Erik used a flint and steel to give their fire life once more.

“I have to say, I’ve enjoyed our time together. Even though the Thalmor are trying to find us, being with someone in the same situation makes it…”

“Easier?” M’rissi asked.

“Yeah,” he answered, poking the embers with a stick. “You know, we could probably make good money if you learned to hunt. We could save every other kill—or parts of a kill—for ourselves, sell the rest.”

“M’rissi would like that. She wouldn’t have to worry about where her food comes from—or if it is safe to eat.”

“Yeah, I imagine only being able to eat meat and not knowing how to hunt, or not having any money is a bit tough,” Erik said, grabbing the bow he gave her and handing it to her. “If you can learn, we’ll be able to sustain ourselves while traveling, and get to Morrowind faster.”

“M’rissi will learn,” the Khajiit replied, taking the bow and grabbing the quill. “She will bring us food, and protect you.”

Erik smiled and grabbed his sword and shield from the tent.

“And I’ll protect you. We only have each other, after all, right?”

M’rissi nodded, giving a smile that showed her sharp teeth.

“You are right. M’rissi only has you, and you only have M’rissi. Though—she wishes she could bathe. She can smell her stench, and she does not like it.”

“Yes, we’ve been out here for quite a while now. Ivarstead should have a bathhouse that we can use,” Erik said, grabbing one of the bags and fishing out a piece of venison and handing it to M’rissi. “Here, it should still be good from yesterday.”

The young Khajiit nodded and bit into the meat and gagged as she swallowed her bite.

“It is tasteless. She cannot wait to taste good food again.”

“Yeah,” Erik shrugged, popping a few berries into his mouth. “The berries aren’t bad, but you can’t eat these as a Khajiit. Still—I’d prefer meat. But, I can deal with a week of not eating meat if it means keeping you fed.”

“You are kind to worry about her, but M’rissi can find food for herself.”

“Well, I haven’t heard you complaining when I go to hunt for your food,” Erik grinned and nudged her. “You don’t really mind it, do you?”

“Not at all,” M’rissi replied, smiling at him. “She—she has never had anyone do these things for her. Being kind to her, and helping her, she means. This is—new to M’rissi.”

“Yeah? Well—I hope you realize that’s changing.”

“She does—and she hopes this does not change,” M’rissi said with a sigh, leaning into Erik. “You have been so kind to her. She knows you say she does not have to repay—but she feels as if it would be rude not to.”

“Well—” Erik gulped; his cheeks burned as he looked off.

The girl had grown on him, and for her to be this comfortable with him—it was something he hadn’t quite expected. Even after the night she spent in his arms, she didn’t let him so much as hug her when she had nightmares.

“If you want to repay me—there is one thing.”

“Oh?” M’rissi perked up.

“I—I would really like to get to know you more. It doesn’t have to be now, or soon, but when we get to Ivarstead, I wouldn’t mind having an entire day to talk about ourselves and learn about each other.”

“But—you are a Nord. And M’rissi is a cat—an animal—”

“Stop with this animal business,” Erik said, cutting her off. “You are no more an animal than I am. I swear—you’re going to make me put you in front of one of those mirrors from Solitude, aren’t you?”

“Then what is she, if not an animal?”

“A person? A woman?” Erik asked, sighing as he looked up and saw the sun beginning to rise above the mountains. “We should get moving. I don’t want to hear any more of this animal talk. You aren’t an animal, damn it! If you keep doing this, I might have to do something drastic.”

M’rissi said nothing, but helped Erik break down their tent and helped him into his armor after they finished packing their tent and destroying any evidence that they were ever there.

Soon, they were on their way.

*

Hours passed as the two traveled.

“Hey, you alright?” Erik asked, nudging M’rissi. “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“She thought you would not want to talk. You seemed angry with M’rissi earlier.”

“Angry?” Erik asked. “M’rissi, I’m not angry, far from it. I’m frustrated that you keep calling yourself an animal. You aren’t, and I don’t know how to show you this. The Khajiit aren’t animals, even if some Nords and Elves treat them like animals.” Erik sighed and stopped them. They could see Ivarstead as they crested the hill. “Personally—I’ve always admired the Khajiit. I want to be trained to fight by one of the caravans. I just—I don’t want you to think of yourself as an animal anymore.”

“She understands,” M’rissi replied, nodding. “Is that the town?”

“It is,” Erik nodded as they started towards the small mountainside town. “They have a lake we can fish from, and the surrounding forest is rife with deer we can hunt and sell. It’ll be a good home for us—for the time being.”

“Fish?” M’rissi perked up. “M’rissi would love to have fishies to eat.”

Erik chuckled, and the two of them made their way into the town, where Erik sought out a couple of the town’s guards, while M’rissi hid her face with her cloak.

“Greetings traveler,” one of the guards spoke. “What brings you to Ivarstead?”

“The war—mostly,” Erik replied. “Wanted to get away from it. My friend and I come from Rorikstead, and we were hoping we could set up a camp near the edge of town so we could have a place to stay while we hunt and sell what we kill.”

“Certainly, just make sure you’re not on anybody’s property and there won’t be an issue,” the guard replied. “There’s a bathhouse in Vilemyr Inn that you can use for free, and Wilhelm always has a job for anyone who asks.”

“Good to know, thank you for your help,” Erik nodded and motioned to M’rissi to follow him as he walked off. “We’ll set up camp and then we can get started on those archery lessons.”

“How will you teach her?” M’rissi asked.

“I have a few ideas,” Erik replied before they set about getting their camp ready. When they were done, and Erik was out of his armor, a young redheaded Nord approached them, a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.

“Hail, traveler,” the Nord called out. “We don’t get many visitors to Ivarstead, what brings you here?”

“Looking to get away from the war,” Erik replied as M’rissi turned to face the stranger.

“Oh—my, you’re quite easy on the eyes. Strange looking—for a Khajiit, at least. Are you a hunter? I could teach you a few things about—”

“No. She is fine,” M’rissi replied, glaring at the man. “She can be taught by her companion just fine.”

The man shrugged.

“Alright, well, if you change your mind—”

“She will not.” M’rissi’s glare seemed to pierce through the man’s very soul. He didn’t stick around much after that, turning and walking away at a haste.

“You really don’t like strangers, do you?” Erik asked.

“M’rissi has learned that most strangers would hurt her for their own gain. She has learned that the hard way.”

“You trusted me, though, and I was a stranger.”

“She said most, not all,” M’rissi replied and gave a small smile. “Now, how should we start?” she asked, taking her bow and nocking an arrow.

Erik motioned to a somewhat thin tree, no thicker than Erik was.

“See that tree?” he asked. “I want you to take a shot at it.”

M’rissi tilted her head and drew her bow and released the arrow, sending it flying past the tree, missing by just a few inches.

“Not bad.”

“But she missed.”

“Not by much,” Erik replied, getting behind her. “Draw the bow without an arrow, and keep a good grip. If you let go of the string without an arrow, it’ll break the bow.”

M’rissi nodded, taking her stance and drawing the bow once more.

Erik took a moment, watching her body tense and shift her weight to her forward leg.

“Relax your body,” Erik said as he got behind her and lifted her elbow to be level with her other arm. “Keep your weight even and don’t bend your legs. When you have an arrow, use it to aim. Have it just under what you want to fire at.”

Erik took a breath and guided her hands to get a better grip on the bow.

“Think you have it?” Erik asked.

M’rissi nodded silently, and Erik could see a faint blush on her cheeks as she relaxed the bow and nocked an arrow.

“Now, try to make the shot again. Try to hit the center of the tree,” he said, stepping back.

“Alright,” M’rissi nodded and drew her bow again, taking the corrected stance. This time, when she released her arrow, it found its place dead center of the tree.

“Good shot!” Erik smirked, patting her shoulder. “ _Very_ good shot. Now, take another one.”

The young Khajiit nodded, taking another arrow and nocking it.

This time, when she fired, the arrow landed just under the second.

“I thought you said you were new to this,” Erik laughed, smiling.

“She is—but—she is quick to learn.”

“Clearly,” he replied and walked with her to collect the arrows she shot. “Well, we can either keep practicing with the tree, or we can try something more—worthwhile.”

“I want to try with something else. M’rissi is confident that she will be an excellent hunter!”

“If you’re as good hitting moving targets as you are hitting stationary ones, you’ll be an amazing one,” Erik said, smiling. “But—we should relax today. We’ve done a lot of traveling, my legs are killing me, and I’m sure you could use a nice rest as well.”

“But—she thought we would hunt?”

“We will, but we can do it tomorrow. We’re in no rush—”

“But the Thalmor—”

“Won’t cross into Stormcloak territory without knowing where to go to avoid the patrols. We’re safe—for now. We won’t have to worry for a couple of weeks, at least.” Erik sighed and sat down near the tent, motioning next to him. “Sit with me. Let’s enjoy the rest of the day.”

M’rissi paused for a moment and grumbled before she sat next to him, her knees pulled to her chest as she watched the townspeople go about their day.

“You know—M’rissi did not know where she would go before she met you. She was just—getting as far away from that witch as she could.” M’rissi said after a long while of silence. “And then those mercenaries found her sleeping near the river. One of them—they tried to take her—her innocence. But she got away, and ran until she found your town and got cornered. She is glad to have met you.”

“I’m glad I met you as well,” Erik replied and offered an open arm, though she did not accept his offer of comfort. Together, they sat there, in silence, until the sun came down and Erik built a fire for the two of them. “You’ve gone quiet again M’rissi. What’s on your mind?”

*

“But the Thalmor—”

“Won’t cross into Stormcloak territory without knowing where to go to avoid the patrols. We’re safe—for now. We won’t have to worry for a couple of weeks, at least.” Erik sighed and sat down near the tent, motioning next to him. “Sit with me. Let’s enjoy the rest of the day.”

M’rissi paused for a moment and grumbled before she sat next to him, her knees pulled to her chest as she watched the townspeople go about their day.

Her mind drifted to the time that she spent alone. Her weeks of walking and running from the Thalmor that pursued her. Her weeks of scrounging for food, eating from thrown out meals, being beaten, and run off by innkeepers and homeowners.

Then her mind drifted to her time in Riverwood. How Erik saved her and took her in from the rain.

She reminded herself of how different he was to everyone else she’d encountered. How he went out of his way to help her, to feed her. They traveled together, and he could have ignored her the entire way, but he went out of his way to talk to her, to help her. She ripped him from his peaceful life and yet he hasn’t shown a single ounce of anger or resentment.

Then she reminded herself of what was looking for her. She reminded herself of the monster that was dead set on bringing her back.

“You know—M’rissi did not know where she would go before she met you. She was just—getting as far away from that witch as she could.” M’rissi said after a long while of silence. “And then those mercenaries found her sleeping near the river. One of them—they tried to take her—her innocence. But she got away, and ran until she found your town and got cornered. She is glad to have met you.”

“I’m glad I met you as well,” Erik replied, and opened his arm to her.

It was an offer of comfort, she knew this. She’d accepted many of those offers since they’ve met, and she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed being held by him. But—she couldn’t accept this one. No matter how bad she wanted to, she just couldn't.

Hours passed between them. Silent hours that left her to sift through her own thoughts again. This time, her mind brought scenarios where they were found, and Erik was killed, or worse, and her heart ached at the products of her imagination.

M’rissi couldn’t help but shrink deeper into herself, feeling the cold embrace of depression as the sun began to set beyond the mountains, covering the mountain-side town in darkness.

Then a voice cut through the darkness like a knife. “You’ve gone quiet again M’rissi. What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, M’rissi forgot how to breathe, and she turned to the source of the voice. Erik sat there, silhouetted by the setting sun behind him and lit by the soft light of the campfire that he’d lit.

M’rissi hesitated at the question. How would she even answer that? How would she tell him all the ways she’s terrified of losing him? No—it was better for him not to know. She had to come up with an excuse, even if he didn’t like it.

“She—she still asks herself why such a kind person would help an animal—"

M’rissi’s words were cut short by Erik, who leaned in and kissed M’rissi before she could finish her sentence.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she pushed him away, holding him at arm’s length.

“What—what are you doing?” She exclaimed.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

“I told you, the next time you called yourself an animal, I’d do something drastic,” he replied. “Would any man in his right mind kiss an animal?”

His response baffled her. When he warned her earlier that day, she imagined many things, but this was not one of them.

 _This was supposed to just be fantasy_ , she thought as she wrapped her arms around her knees again and hid her blushing.

Erik sighed and moved closer, cupping a cheek with his hand. She could feel the rough calluses that covered his warm hands. They scratched against her cheek, and yet she found comfort in the touch.

M’rissi looked up to him, her orangish-yellow eyes pierced through the darkness, glowing in the darkness of his shadow.

“M’rissi—I—I can’t stand seeing you like this. Anytime we aren’t doing something, you just curl up and stop talking. Tell me what’s really on your mind.” Pain filled Erik’s voice as he spoke. A genuine pain that could only come from genuine concern, a concern for her. Concern for a cat that had wandered too far from her home—or so Isael would have her believe.

“She—she is afraid,” M’rissi admitted. The words slipped out before she could stop them, and when she realized what she’d said, it was too late to take them back.

“Of what?”

“Of losing you!” she said without hesitation.

_No point in hiding it from him…_

Tears began to sting her eyes as her imagination went to work once more, forcing her to push the thoughts out of her mind and keep talking.

“You have been so kind to her—you saved her, and have given M’rissi a chance at a better life. She—she could not stand to lose you. And the thought of it—it brings an ache to her heart that she’s not ever felt before.”

Erik paused for a moment, as if processing what she was saying before he smiled and brought himself closer.

“So—what you’re saying is—you can’t live without me?”

“She thinks so, yes.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not scared of losing you either. I gave up my life in Riverwood for you, put my neck on the chopping block more than once for you. And—I’ve enjoyed traveling with you, and I want nothing more than to see you smile because the smile you have is beautiful. If anything happened to you—I don’t know if I could live with myself.”

His words made her heart flutter with joy, something M’rissi hadn’t felt in a long time.

_This is supposed to be fantasy—but if this is a dream, M’rissi does not want to wake up._

Without thinking about it, she leaned in and returned his kiss with a soft peck.

“She—she thinks it is love that she feels for you, no? She—loves you.”

“I—I love you too.”

Erik nodded and ran a hand through her hair before he kissed her. Her heart fluttered with butterflies as he cupped the back of her head and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They deepened the kiss and she felt his tongue slip into her mouth. But soon her hands wandered down to his chest, feeling his rock-hard muscles—it drew something out of her that she’d never felt before.

It was like a heat, deep within her. A yearning for something that she didn’t quite understand. Her hands continued to explore, until she felt Erik stop them, right before they rested on his groins.

“I—I think we should head into the tent,” he gave a soft chuckle.

M’rissi nodded, feeling her cheeks burn with fire as they retreated into the tent and Erik closed it, closing off the light from the campfire and leaving only the soft light from a single candle to illuminate the darkness.

“She—she wants something—but—she does not know what it is,” M’rissi admitted as Erik drew close once again.

“Then—follow my lead, and tell me if I go too far,” Erik replied and planted a kiss on her neck. His hands moved to untie her elegant robes, which were filthy from the journey here. She didn’t stop him.

When they fell, she could feel his gaze on her bare body.

“E—Erik…” she whispered, being met with a kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” he replied, tossing the robes aside and moving to take his shirt off. But M’rissi stopped him, her heart pounding as she took over and lifted the shirt above his head.

She’d seen most of his upper body before, she’d snuck peeks at him when they cleaned in the rivers and streams on the way here, but this—this was different.

She gasped and ran her hand over his chest and down to his belly, and felt Erik’s hand on her breasts as he laid her down and planted kiss after kiss. He soon created a trail of kisses that lead from her lips to her cheek, down to her neck and elbows and drifted down, down, down to her belly, where she stopped him.

“She—she hasn’t washed today,” she whimpered, knowing where he was going. “She is going to smell.”

“M’ri, I haven’t either. I can stand a little musk,” he chuckled, and before she could stop him, she could feel his tongue on her lower lips.

It was a sweet sensation that brought out a soft whimper from her.

Erik responded to it by licking again, and again, until he’d found a sweet spot that made her head go light.

It felt like hours of sweet bliss as she lay on his bedroll, feeling him lick and suck on her sex. Her eyes closed, biting her lower lip as she felt a pressure start to build between her legs.

And that pressure grew as he pushed a finger into her lips and elicited a gasping moan from her as that pressure soon became too much and burst. A shock of what felt like pure electricity shot through her body as she climaxed and held back a moan that surely would have woken the sleeping town of Ivarstead.

“E—Erik—oh gods…” M’rissi panted as Erik responded with a chuckle and a kiss. She heard the ruffle of fabric, and opened her eyes when she felt something pressing against her lips. But it didn’t enter. “Erik?”

“I need to know—do you want this? I don’t want to do it if you’re uncomfortable—”

“Please—don’t make her beg,” M’rissi replied. Her words seemed to shock Erik, but he nodded and held her close as he pushed himself into her.

She had to grit her teeth when she felt the girth and length of his member. It was nothing like using her fingers, and it kind of stung a little.

“Be—be gentle,” M’rissi whispered into Erik’s ear.

“I will,” he responded, kissing her neck and slowly began to move.

His thrusts were slow, gentle, and with each thrust, M’rissi felt so full. It felt like he was hitting all the right spots, and she was loving it.

“Gods…” Erik gasped, looking into her soft, glowing, orange eyes.

That pressure came back, as she got used to his size and he started to pick his pace up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

_Oh gods…_

M’rissi let out a soft moan as the pressure built up with each thrust, and this time Erik would also let out his grunts and moans.

Soon it was almost unbearable, her moans too difficult to try to silence.

She felt her toes and fingers curl against his back and she could almost see stars this time. She felt his member throb inside of her with each thrust, and then, right as she came to her second climax, she felt something warm and sticky spill into her.

“By the gods…” Erik gasped, touching his forehead to hers.

“She—feels so light-headed,” M’rissi said between breaths, kissing Erik and cupping her hands against his cheeks as he pulled out. “What _was_ that?”

“That—that was sex,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve never read the Lusty Argonian?”

“She—she was not allowed to read with Isael,” M’rissi replied. “She hopes we can have more of this—sex.”

Erik laughed and kissed her, rolling off of her and wrapping his arms around her.

“We can,” he replied and ran his hand against the soft fur that lined her sides. He traced the edges of where her fur turned to soft, supple, skin on her belly and around her breasts. “I never imagined you looked this—this—”

“This what?”

“This sexy,” he grinned, and once again M’rissi’s cheeks burned. She looked up to him and kissed him, nuzzling against him.

“She loves you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied.


	7. One Step Behind

“Look at you,” a golden-skinned elf with snow-white hair and an angular face said with a scowl.

She stood alone at the entrance of the small tent that the two lovers slept in, and M’rissi had crawled to meet her, too scared to make Isael wait so she could put clothes on.

“Whore,” the elf spat and smacked M’rissi across the face hard enough to knock her to her side.

“She—she is not a whore,” M’rissi replied with a low growl. Her fur stood on end as she let out a soft hiss and bared her claws. The elf stepped closer to the tent, and M’rissi pounced, but was flung back with a blast of electricity.

“How _dare_ you attack me, _cat_ ,” Isael said. “I gave you a life worth a damn, and this is how you repay me? By running off, and sleeping with a man you’d just met? And a Nord, no less, a brute!”

“You didn’t give M’rissi life, you took it away and kept her prisoner! She was your plaything!” the young Khajiit exclaimed, picking herself off the ground, not concerned with the fact that she was nude, and there was a growing crowd of watchers from the town. “You abused her!”

“Abused?” the woman sneered. “I’ll show you _abuse_.”

Not a second later before she snarled out the last word, a stream of lightning struck M’rissi.

She could feel every muscle in her body tense as the magic attack coursed through her body. It was so bad that she couldn’t even scream. Her mouth was locked shut, and tears that rolled down her cheeks only served to create streaks of burned flesh as the electricity used the salt-water as a conductor.

The pain was immense, but through the crackle of lightning, she heard a voice.

“M’ri,” the voice whispered.

It was faint and distant, and she could barely make out who had said it. But something within her recognized it.

“M’ri!” the voice called out again, this time louder, more distinct. It was Erik’s voice, and it came from the sky.

_But—he’s in the tent…_

“M’ri!” Erik cried out, this time the voice came from an enormous monster that landed behind Isael.

The thunderous sound of the beasts’ landing startled the elf, and she ceased her magical attack to turn and face it

It was a hydra. A draconic beast with large, leathery wings and three heads. Its body was surrounded with a golden glow, and as Isael turned to face it, the monster let out a screeching war-cry. Then, it uttered words M’rissi had never heard before, and from each furious head came a blast of fire that turned Isael to ash.

“M’rissi!” her eyes shot open. She was back inside the tent, unharmed, except for the dull pain in her gums and teeth and the slight taste of blood.

“Divines, woman,” Erik sighed, shaking his head as he sat her up. “Are you okay? You were clenching your jaw and shaking when I woke up.”

M’rissi hesitated to answer, her mind still clouded from her sleep, until the pain in her mouth started to sharpen.

“She—she is fine. It is her blood she tastes, yes? M’rissi did not hurt you again?”

“No, you didn’t, but you hurt yourself,” Erik replied, parting her lips and examining her mouth. “Looks like you just cut your gums in a few places. You’re bleeding, but you should be fine.” Then he took her into an embrace and finally planted a kiss on her lips.

Then the memory of the previous night rushed in, and her face turned bright red.

“We—we had sex—we—”

“We made love,” Erik said, chuckling and giving her a minute to calm herself. “It felt like a dream, didn’t it? It—it was amazing.”

“It was—but…”

“But what?” Erik asked with a worried tone. “I—I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No! No, you did not hurt M’rissi. She—she loved every second of what happened last night. She just—she does not know. In her nightmare, Isael found us, and she called M’rissi a whore for being with you—"

“Stop.” Erik put a finger to her mouth, and then he kissed her again. This time, he held the kiss, and M’rissi snaked her arms around his neck. “Did that feel right?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Y-Yes,” M’rissi answered.

“Then that’s all that matters. You aren’t a whore for being with someone you have feelings for. To hell with Isael,” Erik said, touching their foreheads. “Last night was amazing, and _you_ are amazing. Besides…no one needs to know that last night was our first night together.”

M’rissi smiled and returned his kiss.

“She loves you.”

“I love you too,” Erik said and pulled their clothes to them. “We should get dressed, and—maybe make some leather armor for you. We can work on that, though.”

M’rissi nodded and got dressed, but smirked when she looked over to Erik, who was awkwardly pulling his pants up with a noticeable bulge between his legs.

“Would you like M’rissi to take care of that?” she asked, getting his attention.

“Wha—um—” Before he could answer, M’rissi crawled over to him and pushed her hand into the center of his chest, telling him to lay down as she wrapped her finger around the edge of his pants and exposing his member to her. “M’rissi, you don’t have to—”

“Shh,” she whispered, taking it into her hands. It was warm, almost hot, and it twitched as she wrapped her fingers around his girth.

She laid down, and remembered how he serviced her as she got closer.

His smell wasn’t particularly pleasant, they would certainly have to bathe afterwards if she was to do this again, but she could bare it, just as he did so for her.

She gave him a small lick, taking in his salty taste and his natural musk. Then she gave him another, this time longer, as she started to pump her hand up and down the length of his nine-inch member.

“Oh—gods,” Erik moaned as she took his member into her mouth and pushed it as deep as she could without gagging from the sheer length. She was careful to keep him safe from her razor-sharp teeth, but eager to use her tongue to lick and tease him. “M’ri—fuck—”

She looked up to him, feeling him throb in her mouth.

“I’m gonna cum…” he gasped out, but M’rissi didn’t care. She would keep going, pumping what she couldn’t fit in her mouth.

Then she felt his shaft tense up, and a burst of something thick, warm and salty entered her mouth through his head.

She didn’t mind the taste, in fact, she enjoyed it.

When she swallowed and pulled away from his member with one last lick, M’rissi looked up to Erik, and gave a smile.

“Before we go hunt—we should shower. Our bodies—they smell.”

“Oh—was it bad?” Erik asked, his cheeks red with blush.

“No—not too bad. But—she would prefer if we did not smell like sweat and dirt the next time we—make love.”

Erik nodded and sat up, pulling his pants up and kissing her.

“That was good…thank you.”

“M’rissi enjoys making you moan. She thinks it is cute,” she giggled and kissed his cheek as she crawled out of the tent, brushing her tail against his cheek.

After the two of them emerged from the small tent they shared, M’rissi and Erik went to the inn to use the bathhouse and freshen up before they returned to their camp.

“M’rissi thinks you should stay in town while she goes hunting. She thinks if you come with her, it will be harder to sneak up on animals and kill them!”

Erik quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” Erik asked.

“She is! She will be fine, M’rissi is good at being quiet. She is a—” she paused. She instinctually wanted to say cat, but something stopped her. “She is a Khajiit. We Khajiit are natural hunters, no?”

Erik gave a smile and nodded.

“They’re pretty good at it,” he replied and patted her shoulder. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll go find a job from the innkeep, then. Just—remember what I taught you yesterday.”

“She will remember, M’rissi is a good learner,” she nodded and rested her hand on her quiver of arrows. “If she kills something big, she will come get you. M’rissi is small, and not that strong.”

“Strong enough to take out two mercenaries and a dog,” he reminded her. “Go on and get started, get a couple of rabbits and we’ll have dinner. Get a couple of deer and I can start on that leather armor.”

“M’rissi will kill _many_ deer, and we will be rich!” M’rissi declared, giggling as she took her bow and stood. “She—she loves you. She will see you later today, yes?”

“We will,” Erik nodded. “And I love you too.”

*

Erik smiled as he watched M’rissi walk off towards the woods before he turned to the pile of armor and sighed.

Soon, he’d dawned his armor, and returned to the inn.

“Innkeep,” Erik called out as he approached the counter. “I’m in need of gold, you wouldn’t happen to have any jobs for me, would you?”

“Ah, you’re that traveler that came in here with that strange-looking Khajiit earlier, aren’t you?” the man asked. “Quite the attractive one, she is.”

The man’s words brought a pang of jealousy to Erik’s heart, but he pushed it away.

“Yes, I have a job. It’s a tough one, but I’d only suggest taking it if you’ve dealt with spirits and the undead before.”

“Undead?” Erik perked up and leaned into the counter. “How much are we talking about?”

“Five hundred gold if you come back alive,” Wilhelm replied. “When you came here, did you notice that barrow at the edge of town?”

“Kind of hard to miss.”

“Well, legend has it that long ago, a man ventured into the barrow and was killed by a draugr. Things have been quiet, up until a few years ago.”

“What’s been happening?”

“Draugr. They’ve been coming out of the barrow and coming into town. So far, the town guard have been doing a good job at keeping them from hurting anyone, but I doubt it will stay that way for long. Jarl Law-Giver hasn’t answered any of our pleas for help, and I wouldn’t doubt that the Black-Briar’s have something to do with it.”

Erik paused for a moment.

_Never dealt with draugr before, but—five-hundred gold? That might be enough to get us past the border, but we’d need more if we’re going to start a new life._

“Six-hundred, and I’ll do it.”

“Five-fifty is all the gold the town could come up with, sir. Ivarstead isn’t a wealthy place. We’ve been waiting for months for a mercenary to come through to take up the job.”

“Alright, five-fifty,” Erik nodded. “And—maybe we could strike another deal. My—partner and I are going to be staying here for a couple of weeks. We planned on making some gold by hunting, but if five-hundred and fifty gold is all the town could come up with, that’s not going to do very well. So, how about this. I’m teaching my friend how to hunt, whenever she comes back with a kill, we give it to you, you let us stay in a room for a couple of days. Does that sound fair?”

“Well—usually I would ask for gold, not animals—but if you manage to come back alive from that barrow, I’ll let you stay for two days for each rabbit you bring back, and a week for each deer you bring back.”

Erik smirked and nodded, extending his hand.

“That sounds like a deal to me. Erik Far-Giver.”

“Just—be careful. Deal with the spirit, and find a way to block off the draugr from coming out. We don’t want you to clear the tomb out—not unless something more is found. If you start killing them, you’ll anger them.”

“I understand. It sounds easy enough. If my companion returns and I’m not here, tell her where I’ve gone,” he told Wilhelm before he left the inn, heading towards the barrow at the edge of town.

As he walked through the surface building that made up the entrance of the barrow, Erik could hear the growls and snarls of the Draugr inside.

“Arkay, grant me protection and allow me to pass through this barrow untouched by the restless and angered undead, for I am there to calm them, not fight them.”

Erik took a deep breath and pushed the doors to the grave open, and as he pushed them closed, he heard the low growl of a Draugr behind him.

It spoke in a language that he did not recognize, but somehow, something within him recognized the speech.

“Druv dreh hi haav un qoth, nahl gein?” the undead spoke as Erik turned. A fire lit in his hand and exposed the gaunt, pale skin. (Why do you enter our tomb, living one?)

This Draugr, was once a man with dark brown hair. His once fair skin has shriveled and turned to leather, thanks to the sands of time. He held a rusted cast-iron axe, an ancient Nordic weapon.

“I’ve come to deal with the spirit that has disturbed your sleep, departed one,” Erik replied.

“Hi los nid sonaak do Arkay,” the creature said with a scowl. (You are no priest of Arkay.)

“I am not,” Erik said. “But I know the writs of burial. I came from a small town miles away from any city able to bury the dead. We all had to learn them.”

“Rinik pruzah,” the Draugr croaked. “Kiibok zey, ahrk dreh ni haalvut naan.” (Very well. Follow me, and do not touch anything.)

With that, the Draugr descended down the wooden spiral staircase that it had come up, and Erik followed at a distance.

 _How in the hell can I understand this thing?_ Erik asked himself while they traversed the halls of the dead. There were many sleeping Draugr that lined the walls and tucked into crevices. Some of them opened their eyes as Erik passed and watched him, as if warning him.

Then the two of them came to an intersection of two hallways.

“Daar los kolos volaan nok,” the creature said, turning and gesturing to the intersection. “Nahlot mok, ahrk hi fen lif.” (This is where the intruder lies. Silence him, and you will leave.)

“You have my word,” Erik replied and gave the undead a small bow of respect. “Thank you for your guidance.”

The creature let out a grunt and started back towards where they came from, leaving Erik at the head of the intersection.

The moment he stepped foot into one of the other hallways, a voice called out.

“Leave this place,” the spectral voice demanded. Erik whipped around to see an ethereal figure of a Dunmer staring him down from behind an iron gate. “Leave this place!” it repeated. “Leave…leave…leave…” it continued as it wondered from the gate.

“Right…” Erik sighed and stepped to the gate, looking for a lever or a chain to pull. When he found none, he turned around and walked to the other end of the hall, where he found himself in a small room with a couple of levers on the wall. It wasn’t hard to figure out what lever opened the gate he wanted, and when the gate opened, Erik was presented a second set of hallways.

Then another intersection, separated by a wooden door that, when opened, led to a hallway. It was too dark to see what was on the other end of the hallway, but the Nord could feel something pulling him in that direction.

It wasn’t a force, so much as it was a desire.

“I told you to _leave_.” The ethereal voice growled, pulling Erik from his thoughts just in time to react to the stream of fire that spewed forth from the specter’s hands.

“Damn!” Erik said, putting his shield up and hunkering down. “By the will of Arkay, whose domain life and death, I put you to rest, so that you may sleep eternally in peace! Your time on Nirn has come to an end, departed one, rest and be at peace!”

But nothing changed.

Erik could still feel the heat of the fire that spewed forth from the specter’s hands, and when he looked up, the spirit was still there, enraged at Erik’s presence.

“Damn it, why won’t you leave?” Erik questioned, but no answer came.

The warrior gripped the hilt of his sword and whispered a quick prayer of forgiveness before he dashed towards the flames and sunk his blade into the chest of the specter.

Expecting the ghost to dissolve into a pile of ghostly remains, Erik was surprised to feel a warm spurt of blood splash against his face.

Soon, the ghostly appearance of the Dark Elf faded to reveal a man in dark robes.

“Huh…” Erik huffed as the body slid off the blade. “Not what I was expecting.”

The Nord looked up, seeing the alchemy table and lit fireplace that the man was using in a room that he must have been living in.

In the room, Erik found a vial filled with a liquid that had an ethereal appearance, as well as a journal with the name “Wyndelius Gatharian” on the first page. The journal only had a few entries, but they showed Wyndelius’s slip into madness.

“Well—I guess that solves that issue,” Erik sighed and bagged the book and the philter before he slipped his arms under the Dark Elves’ still-warm body and lifted him.

As he walked through the barrow, he was met with the same undead that met him and led him to where the elf was staying.

“As I promised, I’ve dealt with the intruder, and now I’m leaving. He wasn’t a spirit as I thought, but a man who’d come here and gone mad. I’m taking him to be given a proper burial, so there won’t be any chance of his spirit returning and disturbing you.”

“Dreh ni daal het, nahl gein, uv hi fen kos ofan rinis dez ol daar mey,” the creature replied, moving aside for Erik. (Do not return here, living one, or you will be given the same fate as this fool.)

Erik nodded and moved forward, leaving the barrow and its undead inhabitance behind before finding a spot on the edge of the cliffside behind the barrow. He found a boulder and set the body next to it before covering the body with rocks and whispering the writ of burial that he’d uttered before.

Then he got up and walked back to Ivarstead, where he met with Wilhelm.

“So…it was an elf?” the innkeeper asked as he flipped through the journal. “So, will the Draugr stop coming out of the tomb?”

“I imagine so, yes. They were being disturbed by Gatharian, and I imagine being awake for so long was driving them mad,” Erik replied, shrugging.

“Well, thank you for your help,” Wilhelm said, sighing and digging out a hefty bag of coin, but he also pulled out something…more.

It looked like the claw of a dragon with talons made of sapphire.

On it, the image of a moth, an owl, and a howling wolf were depicted on the palm of the claw.

“What is this?” Erik asked, taking the gold and observing the claw.

“It’s something to do with that barrow. A Draugr was holding it when it came out, I figured it would do you good if—”

“Keep it,” Erik said. “Seal the barrow, and keep the claw. The Draugr there are going to kill whoever enters. They only let me through because they were desperate to go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do it,” the Nord nodded and turned to leave. “If you need my help, I’m at the edge of the town—”

“Erik!”

Erik whipped around to see M’rissi standing at the entrance of the inn, panting, afraid.

“What is it?” Erik asked, rushing to her side.

“We must leave! M’rissi—she—she was attacked by a man while she was hunting. He had this—” she said, digging into her side pack and fumbling a note while rushing to open it.

When she handed it to Erik, and he began reading it, his heart dropped.

_You are hereby hired by the Thalmor Justiciars, refusal will result in your immediate death._

_You are needed to track a Khajiit subject. She has the appearance of a human, or elf, with Khajiit ears and a thin, brown fur that covers most of her body. We’ve been told she and a Nord were heading North, but in case we were misled, you will head East. If you pick up their trail, send men to contact us, follow them, and capture them._

_The girl is to remain untouched. Any harm done to her will result in execution. The Nord is unimportant. Do what you will with him._

_-Eleria._

“How many where there?” Erik asked.

“Just one,” M’rissi replied as Erik folded the note.

He turned back to Wilhelm, walking back to the counter.

“Thank you for the gold, Wilhelm, but, my friend and I need to leave. I need to ask one last favor from you.”

“Anything. You’ve helped our town more than you know; I’ll be glad to help you.”

Erik took a deep breath and handed the note to the innkeeper.

“I’m being followed by the Thalmor. I’m taking a massive leap of faith by trusting you, but you seem like an honorable man. I need to make sure they’re thrown off our trail.”

Wilhelm paused for a moment as he read the note. His eyes grew wider with each line he read, and Erik feared the worst.

“I see,” the innkeeper nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Erik replied. “We’ll have to cross into Helgen, after that, I have no idea where we’re going, but I imagine if you tell them that we’re heading to Rorikstead, through Falkreath, it’ll buy us some time.” Then he paused and sighed, setting the bag of coin that he’d just ben given on the table. “Here, take this back and—”

“What? Why are you giving the money back?”

“I don’t feel right asking you to do this without compensation, you’re risking your life—”

“You risked your life for Ivarstead,” Wilhelm said, shoving the coin purse back to Erik. “I have no qualms about doing the same for you, and I’ll be sure to try to spread the word. Folks here don’t care too much for the elves anyway.”

“Try not to make it too easy for them,” Erik replied after a moment.

Wilhelm nodded, and Erik turned and met with M’rissi. Together, they left for their campsite on the edge of town and began to pack up for the next leg of their journey.

“You said we would be safe here for weeks,” M’rissi grumbled as she helped destroy the firepit they’d built.

“I was wrong,” Erik replied. “I didn’t count on them hiring more mercenaries so soon, that’s on me. It seems like our only option is to keep moving.”

“But for how long?”

“Until we can get enough to cross the border with protection,” he replied. “We almost have enough already—”

“What? How?”

“I—may have went into the barrow near here and took care of a man who was disturbing the Draugr within.”

M’rissi glared at him and delivered a soft slap, shaking her head.

“You went into there without M’rissi! You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I know—I know. But it seemed like easy money, and it was. Besides, the Draugr didn’t even touch me, they _wanted me_ to get rid of him.”

“That is besides the point! What would happen if you died in there? What would M’rissi do? She would be destroyed.”

Erik sighed and nodded, kissing M’rissi.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I should have waited for you, but I figured it’d be easier if I did it alone. It won’t happen again, I promise,” he said, hefting his bag with the tent over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get moving.”


End file.
